


Merry Who-mas, Fitzsimmons

by lemonypond



Series: FitzSimmons watches Doctor Who [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Doctor Who Christmas Special, F/M, FitzSimmons - Freeform, Fitzmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-06 01:58:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1101053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemonypond/pseuds/lemonypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events that occurred on the bridge, Fitzsimmons manages to distract themselves by watching the Doctor Who Christmas special.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Who-mas, Fitzsimmons

**Author's Note:**

> For those of us who Christmas is more about Doctor Who than a holiday with family and presents.

It had been two weeks since Agent Coulson was captured and taken in by Centipede.  The Bus was grounded. The team walked around with tired eyes, slumped shoulders, and even Simmons could only muster a weak smile these days.  Agents May and Ward were gone for hours at a time deep into the Hub, leaving Skye alone to her thoughts, often going days without being seen by anyone. She had taken to hiding in the SUV again with her laptop. Fitzsimmons worked to keep themselves busy, but found it difficult to concentrate in the aftermath.  They watched Mike get blown up; they felt the heat of the explosion on their skin. They were scientists, not field agents, countless superior officers had repeatedly told them that. The events of that day, reminded them of that fact. They had not slept well since their commanding officer was taken. 

There was no Christmas celebration. No tree. Not even a Christmas carol. They needed Coulson back, and there was not a damned thing they could do about it. They were two lost kids out in the great unknown, and they would never admit it, but they were quite scared. More than once Fitz questioned why they had left the comfort of Sci-Ops. Simmons was beginning to have doubts too, which troubled Fitz, seeing his partner so unsettled.  She was usually his lighthouse, guiding him through the dark times with her unfailing beacon of light. 

December twenty fifth arrived, with no pomp and no circumstance.  Fitz greeted Simmons in the morning with a fresh cuppa while wearing reindeer antlers, and she managed a jolly chuckle; it made his heart sing, if only for a brief moment. They went down to the lab and worked for hours. The monotony occasionally interrupted by brief arguments over weapon designs and the placement of biological specimens on Fitz’s workstation. It was late in the evening when their stomachs began to growl. 

“Blimey, look at the time. Hold up,” Fitz paused, brows furrowed. “There’s new Doctor Who tonight, Jemma.” In all the chaos and turmoil of the last few weeks, Fitz had almost completely forgotten. 

“Uh huh. There is. We should get cleaned up. I’ll go to the kitchen and scrounge up some food,” Jemma replied, matter of factly. 

They tidied their stations and went up the spiral staircase. Fitz trudged down the hall to take a shower. Simmons went to the kitchenette, making fish fingers and custard. It sounded disgusting, but it was actually a good combination of savory and sweet, and fairly easy to make with limited supplies and cookware. She set the timer on the oven and then scurried off to her room to change clothes. She heard Fitz return from his shower, sliding his bunk door shut. He was humming the show’s theme song. She grinned at the thought of a naked Fitz humming the undercurrent sound of the theme. Then realizing what she was grinning at, blushed a marvelous shade of red and cursed herself in the mirror. She put on her pyjama pants and Christmas themed Doctor Who tee, tied her hair back, and headed back to the kitchenette with two minutes to spare on the timer. 

“Perfect timing,” she whispered to herself with a smile. After taking their snacks out of the oven, she grabbed some frosty beverages from the fridge, and headed to Fitz’s bunk. Realizing what was ahead for them, she retraced her steps and grabbed the whole six pack. 

Simmons kicked lightly on Fitz’s door, her hands quite full. “Are you dressed yet, Fitz?” she asked, blushing, as she was again picturing a naked Fitz dancing and humming the Doctor Who theme. 

“Yah, hold on, I can’t find my shirt!” He shouted, voice mumbled though the door, and likely a shirt stuck over his head. Seconds later, he opened the door to find Simmons carrying a tray of food and drink.

He grinned at the sight, tugging at his shirt collar. “I was looking for tha!” he said, eyeing her shirt. 

“This?” She asked, nodding her head toward her shirt. “No. No, this is mine, I bought it last year!” 

She lied. He knew, but didn’t care. The sight of Simmons in one of his favorite shirts did strange things to him that he wasn’t entirely sure he could ever tell her about. His face went warm, and he ran his hand through his still damp hair, his mouth contorting between a slack jawed look of shock to a smile in a matter of milliseconds. 

“I made fish fingers and custard; thought we could use some comfort food, what with the regeneration and all,” she said, trying to change the subject. 

“Brilliant!” Fitz said, grabbing the beers from her and heading into the small bunk. She smiled at seeing him happy again, the first time since the abduction. They had both been so downtrodden the last few weeks.  She sat the tray of food onto the bed, careful not to tip anything over; Fitz was particular about crumbs. They settled in and found the correct file to download. 

Jemma sat comfortably next to Fitz, knees and shoulders touching, and as the file buffered for viewing they opened their beer bottles, clinking them together. Jemma took the initiative to do a toast. She felt utterly ridiculous, but they had been cooped up on the lab with no news of Coulson for so long, and she desperately missed having a proper Christmas.  “We may not get to celebrate Christmas, Leo, but at least we’ve got Doctor Who, eh?” she said, with a half-smile . “And each other.” As soon as she uttered those last words, she took a big swig of her beer. 

“Indeed we do, Jemma,” he said, turning to look her in the eyes, surprised; she almost never called him Leo. He smiled, and her whole face beamed, with a full nose wrinkle, that Fitz hadn’t seen in the last few weeks. He bumped his shoulder against hers. “Hey. We’re going to get Coulson back,” Fitz said, his face falling serious again. 

“I know…” she trailed off. “So, what do you thinks going to happen? To eleven, I mean.” She took another drink. 

“No idea,” Fitz responded, realizing what Jemma was attempting to do. “But I do know that Capaldi is a fantastic actor and I for one, can’t wait to see where the next chapter takes us. Care to join me?” He pointed to the screen, grinning. 

Jemma nodded, grabbing a fish finger and dipping it in the custard. “Let’s see what the next adventure holds.”


End file.
